Resident Evil 5: The Outtakes
by Parsat
Summary: From rotten eggs to tripping on herbs with Chris Redfield, pimp extraordinaire, Resident Evil 5 just got a whole lot more awesome.
1. Outtake 1: Rotten Egg

**Outtake #1: Rotten Egg**

The ruins were filled with the angry shouts of the natives and the boom of gunfire.

Chris and Sheva ran through the debris, dodging spears and arrows and returning fire. Eventually the technological edge they had was apparent, as Chris gave the final native a faceful of buckshot.

As the native's corpse started to bubble away into nothing, Chris saw that that in the skirmish the Majini had dropped something. He picked it up to find that it was a sulfurous-smelling egg. From some sick train of thought, Chris realized he had not eaten anything since leaving HQ the morning before.

"Chris…I don't think you should eat that," came Sheva's voice.

"It's just an egg. I mean, I've eaten worse," he replied as he cracked it against his hip and gulped down the contents.

As soon as the stuff hit his lips he staggered as if he had taken a hit. The world started to take a crimson hue as blood seeped into his vision. He was going to die…

"I'm…not…going to…make it!" he cried as Sheva grabbed him and injected a most welcome dose of adrenaline into him. Instantly his vision cleared and the pain ceased.

Sheva scolded him. "What the _hell _did I tell you not to do?"

Chris straightened up, arm over his stomach.

"Nothing," said he with a sheepish tone, "let's move."

* * *

**AN: Don't get me wrong, RE5 is an awesome game, but there were some parts of it that were undeniably funny, so I decided I would highlight them. This one actually did happen to me when I ate a bad egg and got Dying status. :P That was also the last time that it happened.**


	2. Outtake 2: Excella

**Outtake #2: Excella**

"Why Albert?! When I've done so much for you? You said we would rule the world together!"

Excella Gionne grimaced as her body felt it was on fire. That two-timing bastard had actually dared to inject her...at first she had thought that it would accept, and she had simply walked away. But now everything was futile; she just wanted to die.

"Oh, for a number of reasons," came the reply through the microphone.

_How the hell can he hear me?_

She tensed, repressing her pain, waiting for an answer.

"First of all, you have no fashion sense. Your hair looks like a cross between Marge Simpson and Princess Leia. Second of all, I'm sick and tired of listening to your Mexican-porn-star voice, nor did I appreciate your oblique references to my junk. Third of all, you're stupid for thinking that a back-stabber like me would actually fulfill my promises. No, you're not worthy."

"You son of a…" she whispered as she crumpled to her knees.

"If it wasn't for those tits, I would have dumped you a long time ago, and it looks like Uroboros is agreeing with me."

Sheva looked at Chris. "What the hell are they talking about?"

Chris kept his pistol leveled at Excella. "I have no idea, but I think I actually agree with Wesker for the first time."

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**AN: As you probably could have guessed, this takes place right before Excella explodes into an Uroboros monster, but with my own spin on it. I'm willing to bet that's what Wesker was really thinking through the whole game. At least I know that's what I was thinking. Excella is interesting for having an attraction to Wesker, but that's about it.**

**If you're wondering what the "oblique references" are, go watch the ending cutscene for 4-1 again. It's the one called "Wesker's Return," if I remember correctly.**


	3. Outtake 3: Costumes

**Outtake #3: Costumes**

Some may have remembered Chris Redfield as the survivor of numerous outbreaks. Others may have known him as one of the original eleven founder of the BSAA. So when he traveled to Africa, they assumed that he was on another mission as an elite operative, ready to close down another illegal bioweapons scheme.

But they were wrong. This was the adventure of Chris Redfield, hard-boiled pimp extraordinaire.

Although he had told HQ that he was on a BSAA mission, he was in fact traveling to Africa for a very...shall we say...important mission.

As he got out of his jeep, his woman approached him.

"Welcome to Africa. My name is Sheva."

Chris Redfield took a look at her. She was wearing a short golden dress and a blond wig. _Finally a decent ho_, he thought.

"Damn, bitch! You look fine! Name's Chris Redfield."

"Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Redfield. It's an honor."

"I prefer to be called 'Chris' or 'Daddy,'" he replied as he straightened his shades and his zebra striped pants. "You clean?"

"Yes."

"All right. Let's go clear things up so I can get you out of here."

They walked towards the gate, Chris purposely walking behind her partly because he didn't know the way, and partly because he wanted to have a look at that ass. As they approached the gate, a guard came over.

"Hey, hey!" the guard exclaimed as the two stopped. The guard took a look at Sheva, and recognizing her as a whore, started to run his hands over her. Immediately Chris ran up, giving him a straight to the face and knocking him out.

"You let go of my ho, you hear? Business isn't up yet!"

Sheva brushed herself off. "You didn't have to do that, you know…"

"Don't make Chris Redfield have to choke a bitch. Let's go in," Chris replied gruffly as they entered the gate to Kijuju.

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**AN: As you can probably tell, this is based off of the first set of alternate costumes you get. I thought they were pretty hilarious, and I couldn't help wondering how much different the story would be if Chris really was a pimp and Sheva was his ho. I may expand on this idea if people take to the joke well.**


	4. Outtake 4: Treasure

**Outtake #4: Treasure**

The crypt was a dank, dark place, but if they were going to find some answers they would have to travel through.

"Sheva…I think that sarcophagus might have something of importance in it."

The lid was heavy, but they managed to push it off in a joint effort. Inside was not a mummy or a skeleton but a shining collection of gold and jewels.

"Booyah, baby. Looks like I hit the jackpot today," Chris remarked as he started to stuff his pockets with gold bars and gemstones.

"Chris, what the hell are you doing?"

"This trip to Africa has been a drag; the least it can do for me is offer me some compensation. Want a ruby?"

He held up a pear-shaped, red glittering gem. Sheva knocked it away from his hand in a rage.

"Don't you feel any shame for looting tombs of their treasures? I mean, I said nothing when you took that ivory cup or that golden idol, but this is getting ridiculous! Besides, what are we here for? Looking for Jill or treasure hunting?"

"Whoa, whoa. Relax, Sheva. You'd really let all this treasure go to waste? We could pimp out our guns or something with all this gold…"

He cowered under the evil look Sheva gave him.

"…Or donate it all to starving children in Africa," he quickly amended

By this time Chris had somehow managed to stuff all of the golden bars in the sarcophagus into his pockets.

"Eat your heart out, Indiana Jones," he said with a rather greedy tone, waddling out as four hundred pounds of gold weighted down his pants and strained his belt. Before he left the room, he took one last look at a mummy propped up against the wall, then took the ruby in its hands for good measure.

"You disgust me," Sheva muttered as she followed from behind, "Damn white colonialists."

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**Not that the treasure aspect didn't fit in this game (RE2, I'm looking at you and your rubies), it's just that it felt...weird to play as a white protagonist looting Africa's treasures. I'm not one to complain about racism, but it felt pretty weird. Also makes you wonder why they aren't totally weighted down by all that moola they're carrying.**


	5. Outtake 5: Explosive Barrels

**Outtake #5: Explosive Barrels**

"Hurry up! We haven't got all day!"

The head Majini surveyed the blockade they had made on the road. There was no way those BSAA people would get past this one. Satisfied, he opened the truck door and got into the truck, binoculars in hand, surveying the road.

One of the minions looked at the blockade and saw that there was a tiny patch of uncovered road.

_Thank goodness Boss didn't see that_, the Majini thought as he pulled over a bright red barrel to fully blockade the road.

_Now those people aren't going to cross, no matter what!_

He was proud of himself before he realized that he could use a little cover while priming his Molotov cocktails. Pulling a few barrels over, he imagined what reward he might be getting for being so smart.

"They're coming!" the head Majini cried, opening the truck and grabbing his crossbow. Sure enough, a cloud of dust was rising over the road, until they could finally see the Humvee with the two gunners in the back.

"Attack!"

The horde whooped and shouted, getting ready to raise hell when the Head noticed the bright red barrels lying in the midst of all of them.

"OSHI—"

**KABOOM**.

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**Rule #247 of Resident Evil: Enemies have an unexplained affinity for standing next to explosive containers.**


	6. Outtake 6: Stab

**Outtake #6: Stab**

"Ironic, isn't it? For one who has the right to be a god! To face his own mortality..."

Spencer coughed, feebly getting to his feet. On shaking legs he stood, looking Wesker in the eye.

"The right to become a god is now mine." Wesker stated in his cold, impassioned voice. Then with a superhuman strength he stabbed Spencer with his hand, sending blood spurting everywhere. He then withdrew his hand, sending Spencer's body tumbling to the ground.

At first Wesker had that feeling of grim satisfaction that he always had when he had done the dirty deed. But then, a flash of lightning illuminated the air, and he noticed that Spencer's blood was spattered all over his clothes.

"Fuck!" he muttered loudly. "That was my favorite jacket too. Now I have to go to the dry-cleaner's place and they'll get suspicious like they did the time I came back from the Mansion..."

He tried to pat off the excess blood as best as he could, but then he remembered that he had gotten blood all over his right hand. He had been smearing with Spencer's blood even more.

"Looks like this form of murder isn't as badass as I actually thought," he concluded to himself as he finally stopped trying to solve the problem all together. Besides, it wasn't like anyone besides the dry-cleaners would know about this anyway. Hopefully the suit wasn't ruined. If it was...well, he didn't know how he would take it out on those dry-cleaners then.

"At least he didn't touch the hair. _Nobody_ touches the hair."

And with that he took out a comb and a can of mousse, reminding himself to use his left hand this time.

* * *

**Wesker's hair is always perfect, no matter what. Even when he's running so fast he's teleporting, or when he falls into a volcano and loses his shirt in the process, the hair is ALWAYS intact. All hail the hair!**


	7. Outtake 7: Bird Lady

**Outtake #7: Bird Lady**

Finally. After 10 long years, Wesker had finally managed to capture one of his enemies. Jill Valentine proved not only to be a useful way to cause Chris Redfield some sort of pain, but also as someone instrumental to the development of Uroboros.

Uroboros was done now, all thanks to her.

But Wesker was in a little bit of a rut right now. Jill could not be infected with Uroboros because of her antibodies. At first he had considered of disposing of her, but it immediately seemed like a shame to waste such a worthy adversary; perhaps she could be a worthy henchwoman.

Besides, Jill wasn't bad looking. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. He got up from his office chair, heading into his living quarters and into his closet, pulling out a pair of knee-high leather boots. He had originally meant to seduce Excella and get her to wear them. Wesker had succeeded in the first part, but unfortunately she wasn't as kinky as he wanted.

_Maybe I could get her the whip too,_ he thought before ditching the idea. Sure, it would have been even more titillating, but it was not particularly practical at all. Then he saw the bird mask.

As he walked down the hall with the mask and the boots in tow, he bumped into Excella along the way.

"Albert! I was looking for you—"

And then she saw the mask and the boots. Instantly her voice rose with a feeling of absolute terror, remembering that he liked it painful. _Really _painful.

"Err…what the hell are you using those for?"

Wesker looked at her for a moment, before turning and walking away towards the hibernation pod chamber.

"You really don't want to know."

* * *

**Been really busy lately, so I haven't been able to write much recently. Anyway, I was wondering why Jill would have such a weird costume as Bird Lady. There was only one explanation I could think of...**

**Also, I'm open to any ideas and requests that you guys have for this, as I don't really have anything in the works right now.  
**


	8. Outtake 8: Blonde

**WARNING: This chapter contains strong profanity, and is therefore M rated.**

* * *

**Outtake #8: Blonde**

"Chris, do you think this is the right door?"

Chris sighed, adjusting his sunglasses.

"Woman, how many times have I told you? It's 'Chris' or 'daddy,' got that? And you wonder why I was looking for my old girl."

"Yes, daddy."

"Good. Now let's get going!" And with that he booted the door open with his foot and stormed in with his pistol raised.

"Bitch, where's my woman?!"

Sheva rushed in to see who Chris was yelling at this time. It was Excella, who appeared very nonchalant. She was next to her henchman, the Bird Lady.

"Bravo, bravo. Nice to see there's still a gentleman in the world who would still fight for his loved one."

"I don't need any of your bullshit, you damn whorebag. Just let me get her back and I won't have to choke a bitch. Deal?"

"No deal," came a rather cold voice from the upper floor. Chris would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this one big family reunion?" Wesker said as he made his way down the stairs.

"Reunion, my ass. Looks like this is going to be more of a family feud," Chris said as he fired at Wesker, who immediately dodged the bullet. It hit Bird Lady's mask, stripping it off. As if she was ashamed, she looked down, hiding her face with her cloak.

"You should really chill out. I thought you'd be happier to see us."

"Us? You mean her too?! Nasty, I bet she's got herpes or something!"

Excella was about to shout back at Chris before Wesker stopped her.

"No, dipshit. I'm talking about this one." And with that he pulled off Bird Lady's cloak to reveal Jill Valentine.

Chris' jaw dropped. He was speechless for a while, before managing to splutter out: "What the _flying fuck_ did you do with her?"

"Oh, just extracted some antibodies from her to create my ultimate virus of doom, implant a mind controlling machine on her, make her wear a bird mask and knee high leather boots—"

"No, what the hell did you do to her _hair_?"

"Ah yes, the blonde hair? Don't you know blonde girls sell much, much better than brunettes on the market."

"You son of a bitch. If stealing my woman and dressing her up to satisfy your kinky-ass fetishes wasn't enough, you had to dye her hair blonde and turn her into some generic blonde bimbo? That's low, even by your own twisted standards."

Wesker smiled. "So that means I can keep her?"

Chris snarled back, "Fuck that shit, Wesker. I'm taking her back with me, no matter what. Come on, woman! Let's teach this guy a lesson."

"Yes, daddy," replied Sheva as she tottered up in her heels, trying to keep her balance.

* * *

**I was wondering what Chris' real thoughts were on Jill being blonde, when I finally gave up and decided to think about what pimp Safari Chris would think instead. That state of mind is more fun anyway. :P**


	9. Outtake 9: Shirtless

**Outtake #9: Shirtless**

"Like hell you will!"

For the first time in his life, Wesker was afraid as he stared down the barrel of the gun and as the bullet hit him. It was only a gunshot, but the pain was enough to make his strength fail and make him plummet in a long freefall. As he looked down, he realized that the fall would be fatal even for him.

_What to do, what to do...I need a parachute..._

Then it hit him. He stripped off his shirt quickly, holding it above his head. It billowed out and slowed him down just enough to maybe break the fall. It was at that moment that he saw something that made him wish he was dead.

Although it was probably dropping at top speed, it seemed like dramatic slow motion in Wesker's eyes as he saw his can of mousse fall from his shirt pocket, plummeting down, down, down, and exploding with a flash on the surface of the lava underneath. Then his hair gel fell out, joining its partner into the fiery blaze.

But the next loss would be absolutely devastating.

In ultra-slow motion, he saw his beloved black comb, which had been with him everywhere, from the Mansion to Antarctica, fall from his shirt and descend into the fiery depths of the volcano.

You can kill a man's Tyrant, knock a bunch of steel rods into a man's face, or even foil a man's plot for world domination, but when he is responsible for the death of Mr. Comb, that's the last straw, and you can believe all FUCKING HELL will break loose.

The massive amounts of gel and mousse Wesker had put in his hair beforehand gave him a helmet of sorts, and even when he landed roughly not a stray hair was to be seen. But Wesker could not even care about that at the moment; pure, unyielding hatred had completely permeated his heart, even if it hadn't in the first place.

_This isn't over Chris...this is vendetta. I WILL AVENGE MR. COMB!

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_**So why was Wesker shirtless? Now you know, besides the ulterior motive of pleasing the fans. Just a very short one that I thought up just half an hour ago.  
**


	10. Outtake 10: Herbs

**Outtake #10: Herbs**

It was perhaps the strangest sight you would ever see if you had been there. For a while now, a flamboyantly dressed pimp and his faithful ho had been battling mind-controlled creatures on a hot desert cliff. As they got to the top of the cliff, they spotted a table on it with some ammo and several potted plants.

"All right!" shouted Chris Redfield, zombie-killing pimp extraordinaire, "Time for a smoke break!"

"Mr. Redfield--" Sheva started, only to be cut off.

"It's 'Chris' or 'daddy.' How many goddamn times do I have to tell you? Now what was it you wanted to ask?"

"You didn't bring any cigarettes with you."

"Cigarettes? Who needs cigarettes? That shit's for poor people! Now stop disturbing me."

Chris took out some rolling paper out of his pocket. Grabbing the green stuff, he chopped it up with his machete. As he grabbed the red herb to chop it up, he started to talk, as if it were a cooking show.

"I picked up this trick back in '99 when I started this whole gig. Sucks that I can't find any of that blue stuff or the yellow stuff, but this'll do for now."

"Daddy..."

"God, you're such an annoying bitch. What?"

"Don't we usually put this stuff into spray cans?" She held up a can of green herb extract.

"You shitting me? Smoked or snuffed is the old school way to take it, not any of this new spray stuff. I mean really, I remember my old woman Jill loved her shit snuffed. I always liked mine in the joint. Hopefully this stuff is as good as the ol' Arklay grade."

Within moments he had wrapped the minced leaves in the paper. Taking out a gold Zippo lighter, he lit the makeshift joint, inhaling deeply.

"Mmm-mmm bitch! This shit is dope!"

In the distance, Sheva could see a truck approaching down the road. Chris had his back turned to it, and was obviously, to use a term, shermed out.

"Woo! I think I'm flying!"

"Sir?"

The truck was approaching them, trying to round the corner.

"Chris?"

The truck was driving too fast though, hitting the rock face and turning on its side with a smash.

"Daddy?"

"Quiet down woman, I'm higher than Jesus right now."

Slowly the back of the truck opened.

"I don't like the looks of this..."

"I'm really liking the looks of this! I'm flying, motherfucker, I'm flying!"

Sheva quickly turned Chris around towards the terrifying sight, hoping that he would at least see it.

"HOLY SHIT! It's like...it's like...it's like a fucking bat monster. This shit REALLY is good! Rastafari, here I come!"

As the Popokarimu took to the air in its clumsy flapping, Sheva hoped to high heaven, unlike Chris, that this wasn't some crack dream. She tried to pull Chris away to safety, but he wouldn't hear of it, even when the Popokarimu was skittering towards them. Finally spooked, she bolted away behind a rock.

"You wanna mess? Take this!"

And out of nowhere he pulled out a grenade launcher, blasting it down and continuing to pour fire into its fleshy weak spot. With a cry of death, the Popokarimu screamed and leaped up into the air, hovering there.

"That's right motherfucker! I don't care what religion you're from, just fuck off!"

And with that he drew his pistol and quickly fired three shots at the gigantic monster, which plummeted into the chasm below with a scream. In a short while, Chris collapsed on his knees, breathing heavily, and then his mind cleared. He got up, looking around.

"Sheva? Where the hell did she go?"

"I'm over here, daddy."

"Dude, Sheva, I just had the most fuckin' MINDBLOWING vision from that herb stuff. I mean, really, it looked like it could have _actually been real!_"

"But Mr. Redfield..."

"I know, I know, you want in too. Next time I find some red herb you can try some too. But we got a mission to complete, so no more herb for a while. And call me daddy, next time, you hear?"

"Yes, daddy."

* * *

**The herb=drugs idea is hardly original, but I thought I would do my own spin on it with pimp Chris and whore Sheva. I really didn't get how herbs could magically transform into spray cans in RE5. Moreover, how would you mix them? Doesn't make sense...**

**I'm pretty sure pimp Chris also tried huffing First Aid Spray in an attempt to get high, but it just healed his sinus problem.  
**


	11. Outtake 11: Lickers

**I must warn you all that this chapter contains strong language and strong content. What this basically means that if you read this chapter, you'll probably be mentally scarred for the rest of your life, and never read anything I write again for fear of that sicko who could think of such a disgusting thing. So take my word for it that when I say read with caution, READ WITH CAUTION.**

**

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**Outtake #11: Lickers**

"Take a look at this," Chris called across the room.

"What is it?"

The place was quiet except for the hum of old computers still running after years of operation. Chris had some sort of paper in his hands.

"Apparently there's some B.O.W. called a Licker. I think my sister told me about these."

"Why are they called Lickers?"

"They have a really long, sharp tongue or something. Apparently, they can reproduce too."

Sheva was bemused. "I thought zombies and B.O.W.s couldn't reproduce. How would they...do it?"

"Who knows? Maybe conventional means...if their—err—reproductive organs haven't rotted away from the T-Virus."

He put down the paper, turning to Sheva and noticing something on the screen behind her.

"Are those the Lickers?"

She turned around to look at the screen. It was showing footage from some security cameras. Sure enough, it looked liked it could be them, those gigantic fleshy creatures. The two Lickers crept around as if looking for something.

"Well, at least there's nothing near their crotch region..."

"Chris! Do you really think it's the time to think about that?"

"But really? How do you think they reproduce?"

Now Sheva was blowing her top. "Great, I got paired up with a guy who steals treasure, shoots black people, and has a high-schooler's obsession with bodily functions. We're in the middle of a mission that could be our last, and all you can think about is how some_ fucking monsters_ manage to fuck each other? What are you going to do, make porn from it and sell it to the Japanese?"

He didn't answer her. His eyes were glued onto the screen. She watched along with him as one of them turned around, rearing its hindquarters at the other Licker. All of a sudden, the Licker shot its tongue up the other Licker's—

"Oh, _fucking _SHIT!" Chris managed to burst out after half a minute of sheer, silent terror, before promptly vomiting the raw eggs he had stolen from the natives that morning. Sheva joined him. It took the last of their resolve for both of them not to go insane, and by that time, they decided that whoever created the Licker (and they had their suspicions of who it was) was one sick motherfucker.

In their vomiting fits, they did not notice the tiny Logitech webcam or its blinking green power light...

* * *

Another darkened room somewhere. The only light in the room came from the laptop, perched on someone's lap, and the glare off the only occupant's shades from said laptop.

"Hmm...this stuff is better than I thought," said Wesker to himself, "It will fit nicely in my plans to bolster my Youtube subscriber count." He busied himself with adding colorful annotations and an all-caps video title: 2 GIRLS 1 CUP REACTION VIDEO PEOPLE TOTALLY LOSING THEIR SHIT. It then struck him that he would have to keep up the video count to fulfill his plans of dominating the Internets.

"Darling, Excella? I have something to show you..."


	12. Outtake 12: Muscles

**A big thanks to ShyAnon, who basically wrote the chapter and allowed me to take it and embellish it a bit. If you've got an idea, just shoot it past me via PM and I'll think about it (only thing I beg of you not to ask about is Ricardo Irving).  


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**Outtake #12: Muscles**

"Chris?"

They were still in that dark, dank temple, crossing their fingers that a Majini wouldn't pop out of nowhere.

"What is it?"

"I was just wondering...how are you so buff?"

Chris laughed a bit. "I really don't have any secrets. Just five raw eggs in the morning with a tablespoon of protein powder, then weight-lifting for a couple of hours."

"Oh really?" Sheva replied. "Then what are those tiny little scars on your arm from?"

Chris stopped walking and responded wistfully. "Ah, yes, I forgot the steroids."

"But aren't steroids...illegal?"

He turned around.

"Who cares? This isn't the Major Leagues we're talking about, Sheva. We're talking life or DEATH here. Seeing as I'm not the type to go backflipping around, I might as well do anything to beef up. Besides, it drives the girls crazy whenever I go to a pub."

While he was busy droning on about the places he injected steroids and all of the steroids he had used, Sheva noticed in the distance a Majini leveling his crossbow at them. Quickly she readied her Dragunov with the Majini in her sights, only to have a very fleshy, veiny mass obscure her view.

"Chris! What the hell are you doing?"

"Flexing, baby. Isn't this awesome? All the chicks used to dig it. I managed to steal the show from some loser with a funky accent at the tavern I used to go."

He shifted for a bit, and for a fraction of a second Sheva could see the Majini aiming down his sights, taking his time. She looked back into her sight, only to see Chris' gun...his right one, at least.

"Yeah, I know you want to look up close. It's all right; I know I'm irresist—"

BAM.

The bullet shot through his bicep and into the Majini's brain, killing it instantly. Chris could have cared less though.

"Oh FUCK! My beautiful bicep!"

Sheva couldn't help but facepalm. "It was either that Majini or your bicep. Just use your First Aid Spray, Mr. Olympia."

"Fine. What a bitch," Chris muttered under his breath as the First Aid Spray somehow completely sealed and healed the bullet wound.


	13. Outtake 13: More Costume Shenanigans

**I'm back...you didn't think I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make fun of the new costumes, huh? Prepare for more shenanigans...  


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**Outtake #13: More Costume Shenanigans**

Everybody's heard of Chris Redfield. Who could forget the survivor of a thousand outbreaks, an original member of S..S, and the founder of the BSAA? He was a legend. However, unbeknownst to most, Chris had an identical twin raised in a totally different part of the world, but mysteriously bearing the same last name. His name? It shall be revealed in due course.

This is also the story of Sheva Alomar, the sexy office secretary. After innumerable workhours of misogynist bosses and having her ass slapped by amorous male coworkers, she finally reached a boiling point. What happened next there are no survivors to tell, but evidence suggests that it involved an AK-74, a Jailbreaker shotgun, and (Heaven help us!) a scorned woman. After that no one came up to her with a slap on the bottom or a crude joke about sandwiches and blowjobs; it was all serious business.

It happened that Sheva's company dispatched her to meet a client in Kijuju. Why anybody in that land would hire an advertising firm, nobody knows, but she had a mission.

By the time she reached the gate, she saw him. The client. He was almost naked, except for a suit that could only be described as half-gladiator, half-madness, and half-blasphemy. Sure, that was three halves, but there was no other way to describe it.

Sheva stepped up to him, looking at her itinerary. "Err...are you Mr..." she stopped at the name.

"Yes," the man said, "I'm SPARTACUS!"

"Spartacus Redfield?"

"No, SPARTACUS REDFIELD! You have to say it really loud."

"That is just plain stupid. You're just like the office boneheads I have to deal with."

"Ha, you can make me a sandwich and blow me. I am SPARTACUS, the gladiator, and...I'll be fighting in the shade," he finished quickly, half-running to the shade as he saw Sheva take out an AK-74 and make a big show of reloading it.

Spartacus, or should I say, SPARTACUS, was standing in front of the gate. The guard was blocking the way.

"Okay, here's our papers, so let us cross," she thrust the papers at him when all of a sudden the guard grabbed her ass with a fury not even the office guys could dare to dream. Before even the scorned woman could unleash her hellish fury...

"THIS...IS...SPARTA!"

And with that, Spartacus (I mean, SPARTACUS) gave the guard such a punch that his vital organs exploded out and he flew some ten yards away, in a feat of physics. Sheva brushed the viscera off her office clothes.

"Thanks, but I'm pretty sure you have your movies mixed up, _Spartacus_."

"No, _I'm_ SPARTACUS, bitch! Say it right next time." And with that the gladiator pushed open the gate to Kijuju.

Sheva followed, silently bemoaning her fate.

"Goddamn, I never thought I'd say this, but I wish he was just a plain old ass grabber..."


	14. Outtake 14: The End?

**Outtake #14: The End?**

"CHHHRIIISSSS!"

Wesker shrieked with pain, tentacles flailing wildly as the lava engulfed him. The helicopter carrying Chris, Sheva, and Jill hovered over.

"And that's what you get for touching my bitch!" Mr. Pimp Daddy Chris Redfield yelled at his archrival. The taunting was obviously infuriating Wesker more than the boiling hot lava though.

"Daddy…"

"Not now, Sheva. I need to gloat a bit; I been waiting ten years for this day. Stay here, chauffeur."

With a final burst of strength Wesker shot a long tentacle upwards, snagging the helicopter by the landing skid and pulling it down. The craft bucked as it tried to resist his powerful tugs. If Sheva hadn't grabbed him in time, Chris probably would have toppled over the brink from his victory dance.

"Chris! Sheva!" Jill cried. "Use tho—"

Chris gave her a hearty backhand on the cheek, knocking her to the ground.

"CALL. ME. DADDY. And I'll take those!" said the pimp as he grabbed the two RPG-7s, wielding one in each hand and aiming both of the sights at his enemy.

"Revenge is a dish best served hot, muthafucka!"

With that retort, he fired both of the RPGs at the same time, sending not only the rockets hurtling towards Wesker and blowing him into fine chunks, but also sending himself off the other open side of the helicopter from the massive recoil of trying to wield _two_ rocket-propelled grenades akimbo. With a cry he tumbled into the lava with a plop.

The two whores looked over the edge of the copter. There was no Chris, er, Daddy to be seen. Suddenly his head emerged from the steamy lava. For some reason his face showed no pain, but an expression of sheer delight.

"MMM-MMM BITCH! This hot tub is kickin'! Why don't you ladies jump in and we'll have a good time?"

Josh the chauffeur looked out the window with a flabbergasted expression.

"Whatever he's smoking, I'll have some."

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**Epilogue: In the ten years between the Mansion Incident, Chris earned enough money from cocaine and hooker sales to build his own volcano-hot-tub in a remote region in Africa. Why didn't Wesker fry to death immediately like he should have after falling in ultra-hot "lava", and why was Chris so nonchalant in a freakin' volcano? Now you know. Shortly after the events of RE5 Chris disappeared with his trusty bitches, purportedly in search of, in his words, "some of that red-leaf shit, I'm running out."  
**

**By the way, this probably isn't going to be the end of the outtakes, just the end of our mini-arc about Pimp Chris and Bitches Sheva and Jill. Not to say that they won't make another appearance again, but I'm sure Gold Edition will find material to write about.  
**


	15. Outtake 15: Scary

**Outtake #15: Scary**

Chris and Sheva kicked open the door, storming into the room with their handguns drawn. It was empty…everything was silent. There was nothing there. They approached the bend ahead slowly and silently, cautiously. They were ready for whatever was going to confront them in this shanty town from hell…

"GRARG!" A Majini popped out of nowhere, lunging. Sheva jumped up fifty feet from surprise, but Chris was unfazed.

"You call this scary? Ha, I've seen worse. Way back in '97, that was what we called scary. Your roar was _sooo_ predictable. I mean, how could you be scared anyway? It's broad daylight outside!"

The Majini cocked his head in confusion, scratching his head in a dumb fashion. Sheva was just as dumbstruck.

"I was supposed to be alone too. Thanks to _you_, even a kindergartener wouldn't bat an eye. Heck, with no random levers and puzzles in inappropriate locations, even a kindergartener could do all this stuff," continued Chris, jabbing at Sheva. "And what's up with all this ammo over here? Back then we were lucky if we could find five boxes, and now everyone's suddenly carrying all this ammo and dropping it and babying us with shooting all we want. Back then, we RAN like babies. I mean, come on, seriously, what is this, an action movie? I want survival horror! God forbid I'm supposed to defend myself—OH GOD!"

The Majini jumped on Chris now, its patience at an end. It was just a bite away from Chris before Sheva blew its brains out with her pistol. As its body grew limp, Chris knocked it off of him, getting up slowly with a cough.

"Goddamn, I'm supposed to be poisoned. Where's that blue herb when you need it?"

* * *

**Just poking some fun at all the RE purists...it's a logical progression, the way I see it.**


	16. Outtake 16: Still More Costumes

**Outtake #16: Still More Costume Shenanigans**

If you mentioned the BSAA to a law enforcement officer or the combat hardened, you would find an attitude of respect and awe, even reverence at their name. Indeed, the BSAA was known for its high level of discipline and rigor, capable of surviving even the harshest combat. What most people don't know, however, is the fact that the BSAA had some pretty amazing Casual Fridays.

It started with Jill. Of course it was Jill, she always the most impeccably and fashionably dressed for missions. Perhaps it was her history of fighting with fabulous outfits: berets, tube tops, miniskirts, hoodies…and even after she joined the BSAA, she insisted on sprucing up her appearance somehow. At first she kept with hats: a baseball cap, a newboy hat, a cloche hat…you get the idea.

But her compatriots caught on. Chris, despite his manly bulk, was quite the metrosexual, as the BSAA found out. Dan DeChant combined the aesthetics of body art with his bald head. And pretty soon, all of the BSAA adhered to the first unspoken rule: Casual Fridays are HOLY.

It was a hot Friday in Africa when Chris pulled over in his Jeep. No one knows what was in his head when he chose his wardrobe that day, but the moment he stepped out of his car, he instantly rued his Casual Friday outfit. It was a full on metal suit of armor, making him heavy as a stone. Not only this, but strapped to his back was a gigantic ammo box for a minigun.

At least Chris was stronger than the fucking Hulk himself. He could still leap and run for incredible distances. Perhaps if he wore it in the cold Spencer Mansion, it wouldn't have been so bad. This weather, though, was turning his suit of armor into an oven. He spotted his partner for the mission across, and was instantly jealous.

Knee-high boots, thigh-high leggings, a big frilly minidress that exposed half her ass…all topped off with a red hood. He had heard that Sheva was a damn good cosplayer, but she really knew how to do a good Casual Friday.

"You Sheva?"

"That I am, Mr. Redfield."

"Call me Chris. Damn, you've got a fine fashion sense."

"Well, I do prefer to dress for the weather. I can actually feel a nice breeze coming along."

"Lucky…oww…" Chris had just discovered the other downside to his costume: While his five-inch thick crotch armor was sure to be quite protective, it soon became more of a chastity belt for him.

"Ack! Blue balls! Blue balls! I'm going down!"

His vision flashed red. Sheva pulled an adrenaline shot from her leggings, but couldn't stab through his metal armor. He crumpled to the floor in pain and agony.

* * *

Meanwhile, Wesker was in a dark room gazing at a couple of TV screens. Through his hidden cameras in Kijuju, he could see those silly BSAA people with their Casual Friday costumes. How he had tried to ban Jill from her outrageous, tacky fashion sense back when he ran STARS.

"Those BSAA…when I take over the world I'll get rid of these casual Fridays. Besides, the great Wesker needs no silly costumes. Only the worthy can just fathom the awesomeness I have."

And he contented himself with thoughts of world domination and the scent of baby oil rubbed onto his bare abs.

* * *

**Wesker: The only topless character in RE history. I don't think the world was ready for that kind of awesome.**

**Haven't updated in a long while, so I'm rusty and writing a lot more randomly. Suggestions always welcome.  
**


	17. Final Outtake: Party Up in this Bitch

**When I started this a year and a half ago, I didn't expect this to be so popular. Apparently I did something right, because this fic just blew up beyond my expectations, becoming my most popular fic by far. Well, it's been fun, but all good things have to come to an end. Many thanks to those of you who've faved, alerted, reviewed, or just plain read this story. Apologies to those who suggested ideas that I didn't get around to; by all means write 'em up and message me telling me that you did. RE's got plenty to laugh about.

* * *

  
**

**Final Outtake: Party All Up in this Bitch**

The chopper swooped above the massive volcano, dropping off several people into the bowels of a massive volcano.

"This Chris' new joint? I almost prefer Wesker's mansion of a whorehouse already," a gruff voice said.

"Oh, can it, Barry. This reunion party should go pretty well, I think," Rebecca replied.

Barry pounded at the gate. "Hey! Anyone home?"

All of a sudden, the ground began to tremble. They could hear the clanking of chains…it was a giant red Executioner coming towards them! With one sweep of his axe he crashed down the doors.

"Oh shit! It's one of those creeps again!" shouted Josh as he pumped shotgun shells frantically into the monster.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" Barry yelled at Josh as he downed the monstrosity with every piece of buckshot in his shotgun. "You don't know Chris like I do; he's gonna be mad pissed at you!"

Sure enough, Mr. Chris Redfield, pimp extraordinaire, came running down the steps just as the body of the Executioner exploded in a cloud of blood and gibs.

"What the fuck man? Why the fuck did you that? YOU KILLED MY BOUNCER!"

"Oh, just forgive him, Chris. He came because he wanted to get some of your high-n-mighty wisdom and experience. Not his fault he's a noob at pimping."

"Whoa, Barry, Rebecca! Glad you got here in time. Shit, it's been what, ten years now? Still looking pretty hardass, Barry. Ol' Cougar still got some strength in him? And Rebecca, damn girl, you still look barely legal! Come on in!"

They went through the big facility that was Chris' domain, making their way to the top where all the goods were waiting for them. In the meanwhile, Chris gave them a tour of sorts.

"Yeah, place used to be a prison, but now that I bought it Imma make this the pimpingest crib you ever saw! Don't mind all those black folk; they're just helping with the construction."

One of the Majini workers suddenly tossed his pickaxe at them and lunged for Rebecca, but Chris punched that bastard like a real boss.

"Hey! What the hell man, you see I got some guests here? And damned if I'm wasting any of my bitches on you guys again. Last time I did that you guys went into that tentacle shit with her! You want that tentacle shit, go to Wesker!"

"I never knew you could use Plaga to make them work for you?"

"Plaga? Hell no, I got something better. I got the F-virus. Fanboy virus. That shit is wild; they don't even need food or anything, they just live off the sight of our glistening abs and the thought of me giving Wesker a "Handcannon," if you know what I mean."

He received a multitude of nods in reply.

"Yeah, that's not actually lava down there. That's a 5 million gallon heated pool with red lights and pyrotechnics. Took a lotta pimping and gold farming, but it was worth it."

Finally, they made it to the top. Chris' old friends gasped in surprise: On a table there was weed in every color you could dream of: green, red, blue, yellow, purple, orange, pink, brown, even some psychedelically rainbow colored herbs, so many colors.

"WHAT? WHAT IS THIS?" Barry shouted, ready to spring upon all this fresh herb like a fangirl in a doujinshi shop.

"Fuck Skittles, now this is what I call Experiencing the Rainbow!" Rebecca had grabbed a yellow plant and was just about to chew that shit up when Chris grabbed the two of them.

"Whoa, whoa, Barry! Hold your horses. Just lemme show you my bitches. You guys all know Jill, of course. This here's my new one, Sheva. Why don't you fetch us some drinks, Sheva?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Was a stubborn one at first…just couldn't get it into her head to call me daddy. Took a couple of good backhands to get _her_ straight."

"Hey Barry," Jill said coyly. "I've been working on my Jill Sandwich…if you know what I mean."

"Oh hell yes. You aren't the Master of 'Lockpicking' for no reason."

"You see that, Josh," Chris said to him. "You gotta find yourself a good head ho, a good madam to help you run the joint. She's gotta aim to please and be pleased to aim, if you know what I mean. I'd give you Sheva, but she's got a ways to go before she can be trusted."

"How come?"

"Can trust a woman, but can't trust no bitches. Bitches ain't nothing but hos and tricks."

Sheva just returned with the drinks, dressed in her outlandish waitress costume, consisting of an absurdly short and frilly minidress with a red hood.

"Thank you, Sheva. Mmm…a mighty good gin and tonic. So, who's up for some herb? It's all African fresh, promise it's just as good as the Racoon City junk."

**Several hours later…**

"…You know where the weed is good? Antarctica. Yeah, that shit grows there son, I'm not kidding you. Strong as fuck. Thing about Africa is that it doesn't have any blue herb around here; had to import it over."

No one was listening to Chris' ramblings. Everyone was totally baked.

**Even more hours later…**

"So apparently Wesker wasn't actually moving balls fast; it was just every time he did it he put some trippy junk in my drink. I shoulda caught on to that, prick could never dance anyway."

Chris looked at his watch.

"Damn it…why isn't he here? Should have been here by now…"

Some footsteps seemed to boom up the stairs. Chris tottered to his feet to greet the new arrival.

"Man, great to see you again, Leon."

"Cool times. Got some dapper guys around, huh, ya cake-eater?"

Leon was from the Chicago underground, a true gangster known to blaze away with his Tommy gun.

"Brought any bitches with ya?"

"Yeah, I got my dolls with me. This one with the nice gams is Ada, that dumb broad over there is Angela, that other dumb broad is Ashley, and that one…"

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! THAT'S MY GODDAMN SISTER!"

He struck a punch at Leon, but instantly his own sister gave him a roundhouse kick to the face, dropping him down into a stupor.

"Eh," she remarked casually to the pimp and other hookers. "Just the way to deal with annoying brothers. All brawn, no brains. Now who's up for some herb?"

* * *

**Don't worry, I'm not outta this RE comedy bitch for good. Stay tuned for the new series where we follow the escapades of Leon, Wesker, and of course, our lovable Chris Redfield, titled _Resident Evil: Pimp Daddy Chronicles_.**


End file.
